A Game of Cat and Mouse
by katethedemigod
Summary: When a new figure is introduced into Sherlock and John's lives, what will happen to their normal routine? Especially when this figure holds a secret that could damage everything.
1. Bored!

'Sherlock could you please just be quiet…'

John snapped loudly for the fifth time. All morning he'd had to listen to his - dare he say – friend and colleague, the notorious Sherlock Holmes, moan on and on in his irritating, monotonal voice about how bored he was. The criminal world was suffering a dry spell, a very dry spell, and both men were feeling rather at a loss without a case.

'If you need to solve something so badly Sherlock,' John continued,' then maybe you could go to Tesco and solve the case of the forever absent milk!'

John lowered his newspaper. This had fallen on deaf ears, Sherlock hadn't flinched. He remained in the position he always took, sat in his chair with his knees drawn up under his chin. His bright eyes appeared a little lost and absent, staring at the TV. Even with his blank expression. John knew his mind would be ticking. Jeremy Kyle's voice droned on in the background of the traffic outside and the ticking of the clock in the kitchen. Neither of them had attempted a decent conversation for about three hours until Sherlock's snide comments and whining had started. But now it had stoped the flat was silent once again.

The rest of the day past pretty uneventfully John had pondered on whether to go out, but the sound of rain hammering on 221B windows made him reconsider. After finishing his newspaper he attempted to clean the flat. Nothing more than shuffling papers around and moving books from one cluttered surface to another. He stared out of the window for a long while watching a client dithering out in the cold as they debated whether to knock or not. John muttered to himself as the figure went marching back down the wet street.

Suddenly the front door slammed and Mrs Hudson's voice soon followed.

'Boys!' she called, neither replied and so her quick footsteps were heard tottering up the stairs and she flustered into the once silent room, 'Boys, I've been thinking this place needs a new face, I mean, you two are both bored rigid.'

She was answered by an unenthusiastic, dead silence. John simply gave her a wide smile. Sherlock did nothing.

'So,' there came a clatter from the kitchen as she began to clean,' I decided to let my goddaughter stay for a while, she's the daughter of my friend Margaret, she's from Edinburgh you know?'

John flashed a look at Sherlock, who again, hadn't flinched. John bought it upon it upon himself to reply.

'Sounds good' John rose his voice over the clattering, but Mrs Hudson continued to natter. Even though he did sound disinterested he did think the idea of a younger face in the flat was a good one. What could possibly go wrong?


	2. A New Face

'I don't want some girl coming in here and interfering with MY cases' Sherlock whined as John cleaned around him

'Cases?' what cases, Sherlock? You've been stuck in here going insane for weeks now,' John lifted up a bag of questionable body parts from the fridge and promptly threw it in the bulging dustbin,' anyway Sherlock it may be enjoyable, you may even have fun, o wait, no, you don't know fun. Now stop standing on the coffee table! I just polished that'

John smirked to himself on his last remark. He loved getting over on his flatmate. The sound of a taxi and voices floated through the open window.

'O God they're here,' Sherlock looked up at John as he ran to his armchair,' Sherlock, for the love of God act nor-'

Mrs Hudson entered, a beaming excited smile on her face, she clapped her hands as she spoke.

'Boys, this is Kitty' John and Sherlock both raised interested eyes at the door. Jon expected a small child to be dragged in. Instead, a girl shyly wondered in, clutching a suitcase in her hand. She stood uncomfortabley at Mrs Hudsons side and leaned onto one foot, trying to act naturally. She quickly placed her other leg down so she was balanced. The light coming in from the windows marked out her petite figure, shadowing her back and half her sculpted face. She reminded John of someone. Her personality appeared similar to her stance; anyone could tell she was nervous. She was shy quiet. On her right finger she wore a ring. Her slim, pale hands had a few bruises. She kept tucking a rogue curl of her thick hair behind her ear and rubbing her arms. She wore a long red sweater and dark jeans covered her thin legs and a pair of black studded boots. John averted his stare so not to appear creepy. He shot her a kind smile.

'Dr John Watson' he got up and shook her hand, she was freezing.

'Nice to meet you' her smile was kind and gentle, her lips were a rosy red. Her voice was calm and had a sweet tone. John noticed her shining green eyes rest on the silent figure which sat to her left.

'That's Sherlock Holmes,' the girl looked fully to her left, the man stared back at her. His hands were together in front of his face with just his fingertips touching. As he acknowledged her staring back he quickly turned his head to the side and stared at the wall,' don't take it personally, he's having a bit of a tantrum.'

The girl smiled politely again. She still appeared nervous so John smiled back at her.

'Adopted' came a deep voice. Both the girl and John jumped. Realising where it came from, Johns heart dropped, Sherlock was off.

'Pardon?' the girl fully turned towards Sherlock. He turned back from the wall and met her curious eyes. He cleared his throat and pushing off the arms of his chair rose to his feet. He towered above the girl.

'You're adopted'

'How do you-'

'Sherlock don't start' John's voice had an air of warning to it. He went to grab the girls arm which hung at her side. But she didn't budge.

'Firstly, you're stance. You are nervous so are evidently used to standing in front of people and having to make a good impression, to be judged by them. You are about 20? I say about 20, you're exactly 20 so too young for any business job. Now your accent-'

'What about my accent?'

'Don't interrupt. You got the first train down from Edinburgh…'

'How...'

'Look, if you keep interrupting I won't continue. Your eyes have slight bags underneath; you're tired so you've been up earlier than usual. You arrived in a cab so you didn't drive, so train it is. Now from Edinburgh, you have not one, but three sets of the whole punched left overs of train tickets stuck on your coat so you've changed trains multiple times. And your coats wet, yes, its raining here but your coats damp and the walk from the cab to here was short so where was there the last rain storm?' He thrust his phone in her face,' Edinburgh, approximate time at 6 o'clock this morning. But yes you're not Scottish are you, you have a London accent? There's nothing to draw a young, attractive girl of 20 all the way up to Scotland? You live there with adopted parents'

John looked at the girl warily. The girl smiled and her eyes lit up.

'That was-' she gasped

'Brilliant, amazing, wonderful' Sherlock rose to his feet and smirked at her,' John's already expressed that multiple times.'

The girls smile widened on her red lips.

'Don't interrupt Mr Holmes,' with a flick of her hair she walked towards the door, this was when she turned and looked at the strange pair,' nice to meet you Doctor Watson, and you, Sherlock'


	3. Sweet Melodies

'I don't like her,' mumbled Sherlock bitterly as he stood at the window in his blue dressing gown,' it's the hair'

'Sherlock, you can't dislike someone based on looks'

'I knew that' snapped Sherlock, raising his violin and tucking it under his chin.

'Of course you did' mumbled John into his coffee cup.

Kitty had settled into the now quiet life of 221B. In the time she hadn't spent drinking tea with Mrs Hudson downstairs she had tried, and failed, to win Sherlock over. She had tried taking an interest in his experiments. Even the heads in the fridge didn't scare her away, much to Sherlock's annoyance. John and Kitty had even gone out for a meal to get away from his grumbles of disapproval. He emitted one now as her light footsteps were heard running up the stairs. She never ate breakfast with 'the boys'. Reason being there was never anything to eat.

'What are you boys doing?' said the bright tone as Kitty came into the living room. Sherlock groaned and began to play as loud as he could,' Wow, cool, you play violin?'

Sherlock bought his melody to an abrupt end with a squeak, without turning around he snapped sarcastically,' No, I'm tap dancing'

Kitty giggled uneasily. Not taking the hint she walked over to the window, hands behind her back and craning her neck out with a curious childish smile.

'I used to play, can I?' John flinched as she touched the violin in Sherlock's firm grasp. John waited for the eruption behind his newspaper shield. To his surprise Sherlock loosened his grip. Kitty rested her chin and began to play. John raised his eyebrows at Sherlock's unamused glare. She was very good.

'Alright, Alright,' Sherlock snatched back the instrument and clutched it to his pyjama topped chest like a child who refuses to share its favourite toy,' no one likes a show off'

'Is that why no one likes you?'

'Oh, shut up!' snapped Sherlock, annoyed.

'Make me' Kitty half whispered. Sherlock took a step towards the irritable girl. He expected her to step back, but instead she stood firm, arms crossed. Their noses practically touched. Kitty mimicked Sherlock's notorious sly smile.

'Hamish, great boys name' came a voice from the corner of the room.

Both partied turned simultaneously in the direction of the voice.

'What?' the said together.

Before John could begin digging himself out of the whole his line had placed him in he noticed a figure at the door. It was a familiar figure. Sherlock groaned at its presence and began playing again. Kitty noticed the man. He was older, well he had grey hair. Thick stubble covered his chin. He was tall and had a slight beer belly. If he hadn't been so stern he may have been quite attractive. The man rolled his bright eyes and he spoke on regardless in a loud authoritative tone.

'Put some clothes on Sherlock, we need you'


	4. The Follower

'Did she have to come?' grumbled Sherlock to John in the back on the speeding police car.

'I can hear you, you know' Kitty turned to Sherlock,' and I'll be honest, I don't really wish to look at some dead person on my holiday' With a sigh she turned back around and stared back out of the window as London flashed by.

'Why did you come then?' retorted Sherlock, staring straight at the back of her head.

Kitty shifted her head but stayed looking forward. "I don't know. Seems more exciting than your dark, dingy flat."

John looked to his left and saw Sherlock roll his eyes and murmur under his breath. He crossed his arms and smirked, staring out of the window. John knew she was getting to him and him to her and frankly he found it quite entertaining. The weather wasn't miserable but it wasn't great either. He watched the rain drops flow down the window, racing to reach the bottom. Multiple black London cabs sped past them, along with the occasional red bus. He missed this. He missed the business. It was different after spending that time in Afghanistan. He had to consider that he'd been back for a while now so should've got used to it.

Whilst John was busy daydreaming, Sherlock was searching through cases on his phone.

"Latest from Scotland Yard says.."

"Four were murdered but none related.."

After a while the words seemed to jumble into one. For some reason he wasn't thinking straight. He kept looking up to Kitty and watching her. The splash of Chanel No. 5 she had put on earlier wafted underneath his nostrils and he closed his eyes, embracing the smell. Angrily, Sherlock shoved the phone into his pocket and stared out of the window. He was like a small child. Whatever he did he couldn't stop thinking about Kitty. Something like this had never happened before. The police car slowly came to a halt at the top of the street. From out of the steamed up window, Sherlock saw the familiar sight of a house in chaos. Policemen ran from the building to the car, men in all-in-one suits hung around outside.

Kitty trotted at Lestrade's side as he strolled confidently towards the house. Both were looking down to keep the now heavy rain out of their eyes. He sort of liked the look of awe she had. She babbled on about how she'd lived of crime books when she was little and had even considered being a police woman. She laughed at her last statement. Her laugh was like a melody and it made Lestrade laugh too.

Sherlock scowled at them. He stood by the car, taking in the surroundings. His coat flapped behind him in the strong wind and his coat collar rubbed his cheeks. He breathed heavily into his scarf.

'What's your problem?' John hissed as they began to follow Kitty and Lestrade down the street.

'I don't have a problem' Sherlock said bluntly, not looking at his companion.

'So what about all the flirting?'

'Flirting? John…'

'Ooo Kitty please play my violin,' John whispered in a high pitched voice, mocking him,' Kitty look at me with my cheekbones and coat collar.'

'John, I'm sensing some jealousy and I'm flattered but I-'

'Sherlock enough! You are so flirting' John laughed under his breath and shaking his head.

'O just shut up' Sherlock snapped, louder than he'd planned, causing one of the policemen to to flash them a glance.

'Make me' John stared up and Sherlock with a mocking grin and a wink.

'Will you two hurry up' yelled Lestrade. He stood at the door of the shabby terraced house. The police tape that twisted around the rusty iron fencing thrashed about in the wind. Flashing John a stern look Sherlock swept inside the dingy hallway. John trotted after, he knew he'd won.

'Where's this body then?' Sherlock' eyes flicked around, assessing the surroundings.

'Look what the cat dragged in'

John rolled his eyes as Anderson entered the small hallway.

'That's a bold statement, to begin with there's the problem of size-'

'Sherlock,' interrupted Kitty from half way up the stairs,' it's just a term of phrase, now come on'

Like an obedient puppy Sherlock followed her.


	5. She's Only Sleeping

'First door to your left' Lestrade called up the stairs.

Kitty hadn't seen a body before. Who had? She didn't know what to expect. She felt slightly sick just thinking about it. When she turned into the room she expected the worse. Yet there it was, just lying there, face down on the carpeted floor. The body wore old, shaggy clothes. It's once blonde hair was now limp and straw like. Its skin was a cold grey. Kitty looked over and met Sherlock's stare. She crossed her arms and raised a judgemental eyebrow.

'Impress me then'

'What?' Sherlock wasn't sure what she wanted him to do

'That's what you do isn't it? Impress people. Tell them about their lives, you did it to me remember?'

Sherlock tried hard to ignore her and not let her presence distract him; he could still smell the beautiful perfume. He shook his head and glared hard at the body. Argh, this was boring. There lay a young woman, around 30, alone, in an abandoned house. It was obviously suicide.

'You think its suicide, don't you?' Kitty hadn't stopped looking at him. John stood close at her side. His arms folded and legs slightly parted.

'Don't doubt him, just-' He muttered gruffly

'You think I'm wrong?' Sherlock scoffed unnaturally high-pitched.

Kitty crouched at the body's side. She looked deep into the face of a woman, she told herself she was only sleeping. 'It's not suicide, there's no wounds, no weapons, no blood,' she leaned close to the woman's parted lips and sniffed,' not an alcohol abuse and not a drug overdose – there's normally vomit or some…fluid'

John and Sherlock stood there, mouths open in shock. Kitty still had her back to them.

'The only proper post mortem would have to be done at a morgue somewhere,' she turned and dusted her hands. Stopping when she saw the two dumbfounded faces,' what?'

…..

Watching Sherlock try and prove her wrong was starting to get tedious, so Kitty decided to take a look around. She remembered Sherlock mumbling about someone called Anderson, From what was audible he wasn't the nicest of men. Kitty was turning around when she bumped into a quite short, cropped haired man.

'Do you mind?' he snapped at her.

She slowly blinked,' Oh I guess you're Philip Anderson?' he looked dumb found in his blue forensic suit and stared at her.

'Who are you? Another freak?'

'I'm here with Sherlock Holmes. He says you're not a nice person. I'm Kitty by the way' she raised an eyebrow.

'What else has he been saying about me then?'

'O nothing, just that you're a bit of a prick,' he rolled his eyes and got out his clipboard,' Oh, and you've been having an affair with this Sally woman, and something about knees.

She said this so innocently, as if doing the horrid man a favour. She sounded like this because she simply didn't understand. She walked off back towards Sherlock, turning when she heard him try to stop her. He looked red with anger and embarrassment. She better warn Sherlock not to go near him for a while. A long while.


	6. Silence in the Morgue

It almost felt like they had gone back in time. All three of them were sat in another black cab, on their way to the morgue. Kitty and John had taken the back seat and Sherlock's slim figure slumped in the front. They had tried to have a conversation earlier on.

'Do we always have to be this quiet?' Kitty had whispered into John's ear.

John smirked in reply and had drawn in breath to reply. When a husky, yet sharp voice had come from the front sea telling them both to shut up. Both relapsed with heavy sighs back into silence. No one had spoken since, and it was a long journey. John could tell that Kitty was feeling uncomfortable even though she had her body turned away, facing the door and looking out the window. Her fingers drummed on the seat, her hazel eyes were heavy as she drifting off into a gentle sleep.

John shuffled forward to the front of his hard chair and leant into Sherlock's ear,"What's wrong with you?" John whispered. Sherlock murmured something under his breath and folded his arms,"Sherlock, are you going to tell me, or not?" He pestered.

After a moments silence, he finally responded.

"Nothing's wrong with me." Sherlock moaned into his scarf that was pulled up to under his nose.

"Well, if you're not going to tell me..." John replied and started to slide back in his chair.

"No, wait." Sherlock grumbled, flashing Kitty a glance to make sure she was out of ear shot, her eyes flickered as she dreamed. John moved forward again with a grin. "Well?"

"I don't want her to hear..." Sherlock gestured with a jolt of his head towards the snoozing figure.

"Hear what? Sherlock, I'm confused." Sherlock wasn't making sense. He'd never really acted like this before.

Sherlock groaned. "It's not the same."

"What's not the same?" John briefly turned around as he saw Kitty shift out the corner of his eye.

"Going on cases. It doesn't feel, well, it's not normal."

"Why? It's no different. Last time I checked, you're still the annoying tit you usually are." John laughed slightly to soften the hidden remark.

"With her. It's different going on cases when she's around. It doesn't feel the same." Sherlock shied away.

"Why? She doesn't make any-"

"It just is!" Sherlock half yelled. Kitty made a sleepy murmured and turned away further against the door.

"Ok. Well, do you want me to tell her to go back home? I'm sure she wouldn't mi-"

"No! I… I just. It's normally just you and me. I feel comfortable around you. I can...be myself."

John felt a warm feeling drown his chest. He saw Sherlock blush through the rear view mirror and smiled to himself. Sherlock did care after all.

"Sherlock. She won't be here forever. It's only for a few more days. And then it will be back to just you and me. Besides, I thought you liked her?"

Sherlock wasn't sure what to say. He felt odd when Kitty was around, like nothing he'd ever felt before. But when it was just John, he could relax and speak his mind. John understood him and he was the only friend he had. He was the one man he trusted with his life and if anything were to happen to him, Sherlock wouldn't know what to do. John meant more to him than words could express.

"I don't." Sherlock snapped bluntly.

John reached out and put a hand on Sherlock's shoulder. "Like I said, it won't last forever. Things will go back to normal soon. Then you can do your experiments and continue to ruin the kitchen." He laughed. Sherlock wasn't sure how to react. He had no words to add. He was cautious, but lifted his hand and briefly placed it on top of John's. Slowly he squeezed the warm, hand beneath him and whispered; "Thank you."

...

Kitty followed Sherlock and his blogger into the morgue where she saw an average height, pale skinned woman. Her eyes lit up when she saw Sherlock and she flashed him a kind smile. Sherlock did nothing but raise his eyebrows at her and continued over to the clean desk and opened up a brown file that lay on it. As he started to throw sheets along the desk and onto the floor, John cleaned up behind him, giving each a quick glance. Kitty perched on the nearby desk on the other side of the office, swinging beneath her and stared at the woman.

She had mouse brown hair which was pulled back sharply into a tight pony tail. It sort of complimented her shrew like nose and mouth. There was a dark mole on the left side of her neck and above, her face was finished off with petite ears. She was fiddling with test tubes and nervously mumbling under her breath. Occasionally she bit the side of her thumb and tucked invisible hairs behind her ear. Eventually she cautiously tip toed over to Sherlock and stuttered a sentence out. Sherlock just replied in a snap and flipped his hand at her. It looked to Kitty that she mumbled a short 'Ok' and tottered off.

'Kitty,' Sherlock's voice sounded distant. She averted her eyes from the woman to Sherlock, he cocked his head in the direction on a door,' do you want to get a head start?'

Kitty grinned. Her long legs strode towards the door.

'You know I can't really just let you,..' nervously called the wide eyed Molly Hooper, stuttering as she trotted over to her.

Kitty stopped. Not that she had paid any attention to the, now annoying, girl. Her eyes resting on the pale white figure in the center of the room. The woman's body lay motionless on a metal table, a white blanket pulled up to her chin. To Kitty it just liked she was sleeping, not what she expected. The mouse girl stuttered on about rules and regulations, health and safety.

Kitty dismissed the nattering girl with a wave of her slim hand as she pulled on a lab coat,' Yeah, yeah, yeah' she snapped.

Kitty leaned over the body and squinted. She felt weird. Just a few hours ago she had been sitting in Bakers Street begging the clock to go faster, now she was playing detective. She wasn't even sure why. There was something intriguing about it, something pleasing about the hot blood rushing through her veins and her pulse thumping in her ears. The woman had chill blains in her hands and cheeks, her skin under her feet was quite thick and rough, so was used to the outside in all weathers, she had moles from constant sun (maybe she'd been on holiday). Then there were the … the … what were they called? … the ….

'How do you know him then?' came a squeak from behind her.

'Who?' Kitty snapped, agitated, she'd lost focus.

'Sherlock… I mean, are you dating?'

'Not in a million years, what, does it matter?' Kitty's brain went blank and she screamed in anger and threw her arms up and pulled at her hair. Molly jumped, sending the test tube she was holding smashing on the morgue floor. Sherlock entered, as if he'd been summoned my the sound of misery and distress, smiling. Kitty didn't turn around.

'SHUT UP!' She screamed.

Sherlock grin faded and his eyes looked hurt by the insult,' I didn't say anything'

'You were thinking, it's annoying,' she turned around her frustrated face suddenly became one of pale horror,' erm, Sherlock?'

'What?'

'Why, in God's name, have you got a riding crop?'


	7. Digging Deeper

Back at 221B all three sat in deathly silence. Mrs Hudson had made a sixth pot of tea. Kitty had squeezed in next to John in his armchair. She'd fallen fast asleep on John's chest. Her head rose and fell with each breath he took. Sherlock had been stood at the window for the past hour staring out at the passers-by. Mrs Hudson continued to clean the kitchen, repeating that this would be the last time 'I'm not your house keeper dears' she repeated in between her constant nattering.

John coughed slightly, Kitty spluttered into life and jolted up. She clicked her back with a groan. Followed by a few inaudible noises she stumbled into the kitchen. Her stomach grumbled, she hadn't eaten since that morning. Another empty cupboard opened and slammed. Kitty stumbled back into the silence.

'Well we're officially out of food, so why don't we all go out' she smiled at the room.

'I have a date tonight, sorry, hopefully another time' John smiled apologetically.

'Auntie? What about you?'

'Sorry dear, Christmas cards to write, presents to wrap' came a voice from the kitchen

'It's September' Kitty was confused.

'Never too early dear'

Kitty's eyes rested on the standing figure.

'I'm guessing you're busy,' she smiled, testing her ground. To her relief Sherlock whisked around and smiled back.

'I'd love to' Kitty wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic or actually genuine. She continued regardless which attitude he'd chosen to take.

'Meet at Phoenix Palace around 7:30?'

…

Kitty shivered outside the restaurant. She took out her phone, it read 7:28. There came a tap on her shoulder, Sherlock stood behind her. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets, his face was miserable.

'You could have changed your shirt' Kitty looked him up and down distastefully.

'Why?,' Sherlock squinted closely at her face,' are you wearing make-up?'

'Erm … no … well … maybe, sorry'

'No, it suits you' Sherlock hesitated.

Kitty relaxed and opened the door. A waiter stood there with a clipboard. Kitty flashed a bright fake smile and subtly slipped on her ring.

'Mr and Mrs Holmes,' she giggled, so falsely that Sherlock was lost for words. She clung at his stiffened arm,' see sweetie, it does sound lovely'

The waiter smiled kindly 'I feel congratulations are in order Madam. We have got you booked on table 6 but I'm sure we can arrange something'

'That's lovely isn't it darling?' Kitty looked up at Sherlock's lost expression, she said this through gritted teeth. Sherlock flashed the waiter a smile.

When they were seated and the drinks had been ordered Sherlock sat and stared at Kitty as she sipped at her champagne. His fingers touched and he squinted slightly.

'What?' Kitty didn't look up from her phone.

'Nothing' Sherlock replied quickly. With a clunk Kitty placed her phone on the table. Sherlock read through the menu.

'Boring, dull, idiotic' he mumbled.

'Life and soul of the party you are' Kitty caught his eye, Sherlock ignored the comment.

'I mean special chicken, what makes it special?' he whined on and on. Until kitty's phone began to buzz frantically. She hesitated and picked it up gingerly. Colour drained from her face and she practically threw the phone back onto the table.

'Who was that?' Sherlock rose and eyebrow from the rim of his glass.

'Oh, no one' Kitty picked up the menu again trying to make him stop.

'Well, it's not me, John or Mrs Hudson' Sherlock dug deeper.

'Just drop it Sherlock, you don't have to know everything!' Kitty snapped, keeping her eyes on the menu, she tried to change the subject,' salmon sounds nice'

...

Sherlock held the door open with his slim, bony hand as Kitty slipped on her brown duffle coat and made her way out onto the bustling street, brushing past Sherlock. He quickly stepped next to her, turning his coat collar up and slipping his hands into his deep pocket.

'You don't do this a lot, do you?' she asked boldly as she trotted next to Sherlock pushing through the crowds. He tried to ignore this, mainly because Kitty was right. Sherlock wasn't used to this and he didn't really know how to reply, but of course he wasn't going to admit that. He may as well hand her the ammunition that will fuel her jokes and comments for the remainder of her stay.

'What makes you say that?' he said, not looking at his companion.

'Just the fact that you don't keep very good eye contact or hold a decent conversation at the dinner table' she laughed. He wasn't sure whether or not he should feel offended by this, so he kept quiet. The restaurant was just around the road from 221B so it wasn't long before they stood under the street sign that read 'Bakers Street'. As Sherlock saw the flat in the distance, kitty seized the opportunity to link his arm. Sherlock was suddenly very aware of the contact and it mad him feel uncomfortable. Although it felt nice in a way. Having close contact. Feeling the warmth of her body close to his. Kitty realised he was feeling uneasy and looked up at him. He caught her golden eyes and starred at her intently. The contact was broken as Sherlocks pocket vibrated and a text alert went off. He cleared jis throat,' sorry I should get this.'

Having fun? – JW

He rolled his eyes and slipped the phone back into his pocket. 'Who was that?' she inquired

'Just Gavin Lestrade, seeing if I'd go to the yard tomorrow'

'Erm you mean Greg?'

Sherlock hadn't time to make a witty remark as they'd reached the door and Sherlock held it open for kitty who ducked underneath his arm with a beaming smile. Without thinking she tottered in her heels up the stairs and hovered by the apartment door not really knowing what to do. She creaked the door open and walked into the living room, throwing her coat onto Johns armchair.

'Well, I'd better get to bed. Thank you for a fantastic evening Mr Holmes. I've really enjoyed it' She reached up and placed a tender kiss on his cold cheekbone. He felt a flush rise to his cheeks as he watched her climb the rest of the chairs until he heard to closing of her door.

After thinking for a while, Sherlock went into the kitchen and made himself a cup of tea. He was just about to sit down as he heard a rather loud buzzing. He checked his phone but the screen was blank. The nosie came again and again. Sherlock put his cup down and located the source of the noise. It was coming from Kitty's coat pocket on John's chair. He was about to check it when he remembered John telling him about some privacy thing and that it wasn't right to look through a woman's possessions. Sherlock ignore the nagging voice like always and grabbed the phone. There was a whole conversation of one sided texts.

5:34PM Hello Dearest, Meow – JM

6:23PM Ignore me once more and you know what I can do, squeak squeak – JM

1:42AM I win! I've found you again, need to find a better hiding place my dearest. Maybe a whole in someones basement, but we know how that ended – JM

One in particular chilled Sherlock who stood in that flat, alone.

It's a fun game isn't it? You and I back together again – JM

Most had the reply of 'Just leave me alone' or 'Go away, now, I'm not scared of you anymore, I'm not a child'. However, most had no responses. Sherlock sat down, his armchair heaving a heavy groan. He wasn't sure, but something inside him knew, knew who it was, knew who was back.


	8. A Dream Come True

She couldn't get them out of her head. Kitty tossed and turned in her bed. One moment she was too hot so kicked off her thick duvet, next she was freezing cold and was forced to scuttle bare footed, risking the splinters, to her wardrobe and scrabble around for the musty spare blanket.

'Right, I'm not going to think about him in 3...2…1…SHIT'

After trying this failing method for what felt like most of the night she leaned up on her elbow and sleepily flashed her clock a glance, it must be near sunrise now. It was 2:30AM. She slammed face down onto her pillow and stifled a screamed.

Her head span with his face. Those cold black eyes, that sly grin, that greased back black hair. But then she sighed and the face changed, it developed deep cheekbones, a long face, dense curly brown hair, icy blue eyes...

'SNAP OUT OF IT' she hissed to herself before sneezing. The dust from the aged blanket had got up her delicate nose. A sharp pain flashed in the back of her head. She winced a little. Warm milk, that's what she needed. That's what the woman at the orphanage used to give her when she got these nightmares.

Creaking down the stairs she came down from her room to 221B's icey kitchen. When she tip toed into the flat she couldn't resist lightly trotting on her bare feet towards a slightly open door she knew was his bedroom. For a good five minutes she stood there, right on the tips of her toes, leaning close to the door listening to his heavy deep breaths and occasional grunts. Something inside her swelled and she smiled.

'For God's sake, stop being stupid' she hissed again to herself, lightly pinching her own hand before sneaking back to the kitchen.

Trying to make as little noise as possible she scooted around Sherlock's test tubes and equipment. Ignoring the bags of eyes, thumbs and tongues she eventually found the carton of milk she'd been sent out to get on the first day. Kitty sniffed it and wrinkled up her nose at its sourness. She swigged a bit, it didn't taste as bad as it smelt. Ignoring the suspicious lumps.

Carrying the dodgy smelling glass of milk back up to her room Kitty's eyes became heavy. Whilst routing round in the cupboards she had found a stale bag of crisps and carried these between her teeth. Lying amongst her thick duvet, pillows, cushions and the spare blanket. Kitty listened to the occasional car pass by and her empty stomach churn and rumble. Her dinner with Sherlock had been her first meal in the week she had been in the flat. Putting her hunger to the back of her mind she closed her eyes. Finally a light, sickly sleep passed over her. She slept uneasily, for a half hour at the most anyway.

…..

'Go away John' Kitty whinged sleepily as a hot cup of tea was shoved under her nose. She lay on the sofa, a hot water bottle on her sore stomach. The taste of vomit filled her mouth, John wrinkled up his nose as she put the newly named 'sick bowl' into use. That milk had definitely been off.

'Are you sure you'll be ok if Sherlock and I leave you' John knelt down and brushed her hair off her sweaty yet cold face. His voice was soft and he smiled as she turned her even paler face to one side.

'She'll be fine' came a sharp voice from the bathroom. Kitty and John both shot a sour stare in the direction of the grumbly voice. The owner of the voice soon came gliding into the room, leaning over the sickly invalid on the sofa he pulled his scarf form underneath her.

'We'll be back in about two hours ok?' John brushed her hair back again off her face and lightly tapped his lips on her forehead and smiled.

Sherlock scowled and muttered impatiently, 'O yes, it's all lovely lovely sicky sick. Have you quite finished, blogger?'

As the arguing pairs footsteps descended the stairs Kitty grumbled to herself and turned over so her back was to the flat and bought he legs up to underneath her chin. Her night of no sleep had had its effect and soon she was fast asleep and snoring.

…..

"Sherlock?" She mumbled. His tall figure turned around and slowly moved back towards her. "Did I wake you? I'm sorry." Kitty sat upright in her seat now. This was odd. The sickness had gone and Sherlock was never usually this nice.

"No, don't worry. I was already awake. Did you put this on me?" She motioned towards the blanket. He stopped just in front of her and blushed.

"Um…Yes… Sorry, I didn't want you to get cold." He said as he started to grab the blanket and pull it off of her, embarrassed. She put her hand down to stop him.

"Thank you." Her eyes glistened as she caught his gaze.

"Tea?" He offered. Kitty nodded her head and he briskly came back with to china cups. This was very strange, Sherlock never made tea.

"Where's John?"

"Hm? John? Who's John?" He replied. That's so odd. Kitty was confused. How could he not remember? Maybe he'd misheard. Sherlock sat at his desk and put his cup down. After rubbing his neck he stretched his arms out, his buttons reached breaking point as he ruffled his hair with a groan. Kitty was staring so intently that she had no idea he saw her.

"See anything you like?" He cooed.

"What? I-um- sorry I didn't-um…" She stuttered quickly. Before she could move, Sherlock was out of his chair and knelt down before her on the sofa. Kitty was so overwhelmed and tucked her hair behind her ear. Her eyes didn't know where to look, they rested on his shirt with the still slightly bursting buttons. Before she knew it he grabbed hold of her cheek and kissed her. Not just an ordinary kiss. Like one she'd seen in the movies. He ran his hands through her hair, to Kitty it seemed to last for forever. He kissed her just like she had imagined he would. Not that she thought about it often. She closed her eyes and let herself get lost in the moment. It was as if Kitty's dreams were becoming reality. All of a sudden the kiss broke and she thought she heard someone clear their throat. Her eyes were still closed and her heart was beating at an irrational pace.

"Kiss me again Sher-" She half gasped half mumbled out load. When no reply came she slowly opened her eyes. What was before her was not a dream.

"If it's all the same to you, I think I'll pass." The old, posh voice spoke. Kitty blinked a few times and focused on the tall figure. He had a straight posture, his long nose was pointed upwards with a snobby arrogance about him. He had a snide look on his face. His umbrella was pointing at her as if she were a feral animal behind bars.

Kitty took an instant dislike to this stranger, 'Who the hell are you?' she grumbled aggressively then it dawned on her,' OH MY CHRIST HOW DID YOU GET INTO THE FLAT?! GET OUT' she stood up too fast , blood rushed to her head and she fell back down onto the sofa with her hand on her aching forehead.

Ignoring the rough girls shenanigans, Mycroft blew the dust from his nose onto his crisp, clean handkerchief and sniffed, 'if you see my dear brother please tell him i called'

'Well he should be back soon, he never mentioned he would have a caller' Kitty mumbled rubbing her eyes as she toddled to the kitchen, pushing past the man. she hadn't realised this man was in fact Sherlock's brother, 'stay here if you-'

'O no I have a ... a taxi waiting, I better dash' Mycroft stuttered quickly, tapping his umbrella on the wooden floor.

'I think we have cake here somewhere' Kitty scrabbled deep in the cupboard,' ah yes found it! but if you're not staying-'

'Well. What harm can a slice of cake do ?' Mycroft flashed a grin in the direction of the kitchen, allowed it to drop from his face and sat down in the creaking armchair. He could wait.


	9. Don't Worry

'O MY GOD WILL YOU TWO JUST PLEASE SHUT UP!' Kitty screamed with her head in her hands.

If only she'd have had her phone ready to capture the look on Sherlock's face when his eyeS had rested on his mystery visitor. That was two hours ago, and the two had not stopped talking. John had taken refuge in the kitchen with the door firmly closed. Oblivious, Kitty had stayed in the living room and had tried to get back to sleep… fat chance. Everything from the view to the type of tea they drank resulted in them bickering. About an hour ago Mycroft had bought up the subject of a case involving some government somewhere Kitty had never heard of. Obviously, the idea appalled Sherlock and he refused. In the normal world the matter would have settled.

'Look Sherlock,' Mycroft raised his voice sharply,' if you refuse then the country could suffer the worse-'

Sherlock began to play his violin as he leaned back into his armchair. Mycroft had thoroughly lost his interest. With an agitated groan he rose to his feet.

'Shame, the pay was good too…'

Kittys ears pricked up and she lifted her face from her hands,'Pay?'

'Yes, all we really need was a password to obtain some documents'

'I could maybe have look,' Mycroft looked down at the scruffy girl distastefully. He was surprised she knew what a document was. But he had lost his final hope, so the rough girl was worth a shot. He nodded and pulled out a USB from his jacket pocket, and grabbed his brothers laptop from its place on the coffee table.

'Lord Thomas Williams,' Mycroft took on his most monotonous tone, Kitty stared at the photo of the man on the screen. She'd seen him on television sometimes, he was an MP for some lesser known part of Britain,' Now we've heard he possesses some documents that are of interest to us. We have the pen drive but its password protected…'

Kitty stared at the screen. A simple password, this was easy. She typed away and pressed enter. Done. Mycroft's eyes grew wide, his mouth even hung open a little. Sherlock stopped playing.

'How?...'

'Well it's all in the photo isn't it?' Kitty giggled, acting the fool. She rose and made her way to the kitchen door.

Not able to reply Mycroft scribbled on a cheque and slammed it down onto the coffee table. With a nod to his brother Mycroft took the USB from the laptop, plunged it into his pocket and swept out of the room.

'How did you do it then?' Sherlock didn't look up from rubbing the resin on his bow.

'You can do anything when you're close to slamming some certain person's heads together,' Kitty laughed at her own comment. Her phone buzzed and her laugh stopped with a cough,' so… I'm going out' Kitty stammered quietly grabbing her coat from the back of John's armchair.

'Why? Where?' Sherlock raised his eyes to her. Kitty looked down at the ground. The clothes she was wearing hadn't been ironed since she'd arrived, were even more ruffled from when she had fallen asleep in them and smelt very dodgy. Her dark hair brushed her shoulders and a few strands danced across her pale, tired face, sticking to the beads of sweat. Sherlock noticed that she tended to wear long sleeved tops and trousers. He was yet to figure out why. She held her phone in her right hand with a grip stronger than anything he'd seen her do it before, her knuckles were white. Maybe she was just a bit protective. Kitty's eyes were baggy and dark and her lips were chapped.

'Nowhere DAD' Kitty snapped as she put on her coat. She met his stare.,' and if I'm not back… don't worry ok?'

'Why would I worry?'

'You won't, you're a sociopath right?'

'Highly functioning' Sherlock snapped back with a cough.

'You always have to slip that in don't you?' Kitty tied her bright red scarf tightly around her slim neck. She couldn't really look Sherlock straight in the face after that dream. She shook it from her mind and made her way to the top of the stairs.

Sherlock heard the front door slam.

'Just be safe' he muttered, and began to play.


	10. Mouse in Mousetrap

Kitty walked at a quick pace down the busy pavement. An icy winter wind whistled past her ears and nipped her now crimson cheeks. She pulled her scarf up so it rested on her nose to keep warm. She felt a buzz in her pocket, anxiously she removed her phone.

See you soon, dearest. JM

The thought of him sent terrified shivers down her spine. He'd send the address where they should meet. She would've preferred never to see him again, keep him as a memory and keep him as a nightmare. But she knew, soon enough, he would force them into meeting. She shivered again at the thought as she re-read the address, it seemed so familiar, but she hadn't been to London since…since-

Kitty hadn't been concentrating on the crowds and collided with a large man. He was so sturdy it nearly sent Kitty's slim form onto the floor.

'Oh, erm, sorry…' she mumbled, the man was well over 6ft and would've made a great living as a body guard. His stern, angry expression made Kitty uncomfortable. Her eyes changed to that like a rabbit in car headlights. He simply brushed back past her, knocking her shoulder.

Attempting to recover Kitty turned off onto a quiet, run down street. The houses had seen better days, their paint that wasn't covered in graffiti was peeling and rubbish lined the pavement. This was the street.

'Number 64.' Kitty mumbled as she inspected each day. Children kicked a ball around, laughing and yelling. One kicked it over to Kitty, it rolled right onto her feet. Looking at the children she smiled and tapped it back to the little boy, he grinned.

'Thanks miss,' he picked up the ball and placed it under his arm, 'are you lost?'

'Yes, slightly,' Kitty smiled back,' I'm looking for number 64'

The boy pointed,' it's the big green one'

Kitty followed the direction he pointed, her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach,' oh that's,' she swallowed,' great, thanks'

Nervously she approached the house. It seemed to tower above her, like it used to. Its green paint was now dirty and patchy. She felt sick looking at it, the same sick fear it gave her when she was a child. Above the shabby, aged door read. '_Mayday Orphanage – ages 0 – 13'_

Of course he'd choose here. Kitty was awash with gear. Her heartbeat banged through her body, her blood was cold as ice, yet she was hot and her palms became sweaty. She couldn't go in aloe, she fumbled for her phone. It was gone. Maybe she could run. Never look back. He'd find her; he always hunted her down sooner or later.

Taking a deep breath she trotted up the stone steps and creaked open the front door and enter. It smelt like damp and mould. Kitty covered her nose with the scard. Turning around she saw the staircase, it creaked at each step she took. She knew exactly which room he'd chose, Room 6, at the far end of the thin corridor on the left.

Floorboards creaked as she approached room number 6. The fear had completely taken over her. It was what lead her on, it had taken control of her whole body. The musty smell made her stomach churn, her whole body felt stone cold and her hands shook. The door was slightly open, she pushed it. A cold draught caught her face.

'Knock, Knock.' came a voice form inside. It seemed to echo around the whole building Kitty drew in a deep breath and entered the room.

The ceiling was a dingy grey with large brown patches. The once yellow wall was practically back with dirt and damp dripped from a hole in the ceiling onto the mouldy, wooden floor. Her eyes rested on a figure that stood in the centre of the room. The figure rose its head and grinned.

'O I do love a family reunion' he continued to gin. His voice was silky smooth and soft to her ear.

'Why am I here?' somehow seeing him made Kitty feel less terrified. The meeting was becoming more of an inconvenience now.

'Fourteen years and that's all you have to say to me,' his voice became cold, almost pitiful. Like a crying small child,' you left me'

'Left you?! Jim I was adopted,' I didn't want to be separated' Kitty lied, form when she was able to talks she knew her brother wasn't normal.

'Blah Blah,' the man laughed and rolled his dark, shining eyes,' I'm more interested in your current affairs' his face clicked back to being serious. He raised an eyebrow. Kitty rose hers in reply, mimicking him, and casually folded her arms.

'O look at you, clever clogs acting all innocent,' the voice was high pitched and condescending,' maybe that's why you were the favourite,' he muttered this last sentence, his voice cutting through her, almost evil, 'maybe you need your brain re-jogging' he grinned again and held up a phone. Kitty's phone. He'd started the mind games.

'What? Where? How?' the force of dread hit Kitty's mind and she froze dead on the spot.

'Oh, don't act so innocent!' his tone rose to a shout, he unlocked the device,' 1:30 Sherlock, missed call, 1:35 John Watson, missed call, 1:40 John Watson, missed call…Oh-' he stopped and looked at her, his mouth forced open and eyes wide; acting shocked,'-Oh they care, they care about precious Kitty' he walked a few paces forward and bought his face up to hers, he looked into her wide fearful eyes and held up the phone,' not any mooore'

His grimace made Kitty flinch. He dropped the phone to the hard floor and before she could garb for it he trod down hard on it with his heel. Kitty gasped. She had to leave.

'Oh, you're not going anywhere, dearest sister' his voice was almost sing-songy. Behind Kitty came creaks, they stopped. A massive man stood behind her. Jim shrugged and smiled apologetically before sauntering over to the door, he ran his hand delicately, almost lovingly up and down the frame. He sighed heavily,' I feel you won't be leaving here for a very long time'

Kitty ran towards him but the bombastic man stuck out his arm and pushed her hard onto the floor. She banged her head off the wooden boards, cutting her temple on a loose splinter. Before she could scramble to her feet the door had locked shut.

'LET ME OUT!' she screamed over and over, hammering her tight fists against the rotting wood, so hard that she uncovered a rusty nail. Her hand caught it and she yelled in shock and pain and shoved the heavily bleeding knuckle into her mouth. She gave up. She had no phone. No one knew where she was. Jim was right, no one would care. Her legs buckled beneath her and she collapsed in a heap onto the floor, sobbing. It was the only noise in the abandoned street.


	11. A Message For You

The flat was silent once more. It was hard to admit the men hadn't actually noticed Kitty's suspiciously long absence.

'She'll be home son' John had tried to calm the distressed Mrs Hudson. Knowing Kitty like he did, John assumed she'd probably got distracted by one thing or another.

After convincing Mrs Hudson to go to bed for an afternoon nap, Doctors orders, John collapsed into his armchair with a sigh and a grunt.

'How do you do that?' came the gruff voice.

'Do what?' John leaned back with another sigh.

'Know what to say'

Not really knowing what Sherlock was asking John just babbled, 'Just, try be nice'

'I'm always nice' came the sharp, haughty reply. Sherlock raised his violin and began to play. Each note was high, yet drawn out – like a woman crying – John thought as he rose and strolled over to his flatmates place at the window. The tune cam to an end, the final note faded away.

'You're composing again?' John innocently enquired, leaning over Sherlock's shoulder. His violin was still tucked under his chin.

'Yes'

John reached out and seized the sheet of scribbled notes off the stand.

'John, give that back' Sherlock snatched it out of Johns grip.

'The Lonely Soldier?' John turned a slight smile on his lips.

'Alright, don't get too excited' Sherlock placed the instrument down gingerly onto the desk. John noticed his cheeks were a hot pink and flushed.

Sherlock's phone buzzed. He leaned over his desk and grabbed his phone.

'Oh what a surprise,' he thought allowed,' Lestrade'

The text read _'52 Buckingham Road, come quick'_

Sherlock was about to ignore this when a second text appeared/

'_They've left a little message for you. GL'_

Sherlock grinned don at his phone, his heart lifted a bit. Adrenalin began to pump through him. He glided towards the door, wrapping his coat around him.

'Come along John'

Like a bewildered puppy John trotted behind him towards the awaiting cab.

...

The pair arrived at the house. Just a normal house, it seemed. The great detective strode up to Lestrade who stood anxiously on the pavement.

'Murder?' Sherlock didn't take his eyes off the building. Lestrade nodded and opened his mouth, Sherlock intervened,' who's on forensics?'

'Some newbie' shrugged Lestrade,' she's new'

'As long as she's not Anderson' was Sherlock's parting shot as he stormed into the house.

'Oh it's you, Freak'

'Ah Donovan, I've missed you'

'Anderson says you have another freak for a girlfriend,' he ignored the obvious insult,' or do you not have any friends?'

Sherlock knew what she was trying to do. Pushing past her, he walked into a large room. A man lay on the floor. No blood. He crouched at his side. No vomit. Just like the woman he was boring. He rose to his feet, his eyes caught something on the wall. Stepping back he took it all in. Those symbol, the ancient Chinese symbols sprayed in the familiar yellow paint. He quickly took a photo on his phone. He could never really work at the crime scene when there wasn't John around to impress. He looked over his shoulders, where was John?

John had become stuffy in the bustling house, he never liked crowds. He stood outside in the fresh cool air.

'Excuse me' came a squeaky nervous voice from behind him. John turned to see a group of girls, about 16 in age. All five of them wore various deerstalkers and were clutching notebooks to their chests. Another girl began to speak.

'Are you Doctor John Watson?' she could barely talk through the massive grin on her freckled face.

John rose a confused eyebrow,'Yes'

The girls chattered and giggled. Again a different girl was pushed forward from the group to talk. She opened her notebook.

'Erm, could you please sign this' Her hands shook as she handed a pen to the still confused John.

'What have I told you lot? For the last time LEAVE!' yelled Lestrade form the first floor window of the house. Like mice the girls dispersed running and giggling down the road. John was left dumbfounded, holding a pen. He notice one stop and turn around.

'THANK YOU JOHN' she yelled before one of the girls pulled her away.

John heard Lestrade groan,' Those were fans of yours Doctor,' he grinned before slamming the window.


	12. Into the Mindpalace

Sherlock stood, a single, solitary figure. Nothing more than a shadow, a ghost. He stood facing the wall. On the wall he'd stuck photos of both the victims. Their locations, the bodies. Kitty had forbid him from doing this, she'd somehow found him from doing this. She'd somehow found it, how did she put it? 'Disgusting and creepy' she'd said, well yelled. Sherlock flicked his phone a glance as he thought of her. Where was she? He was almost tempted to text her. But ignoring these murders would be like a starving man putting aside a juicy steak to go cold whilst eating a salad. Kitty could look after herself.

Now, the murders. One man, one woman. The post-mortem had come up with bruises on the woman's feet, they'd once been heavily blistered. The blood samples of both contained ice crystals. Nights hadn't so cold as to freeze peoples blood. The bodies would've had to have been below freezing. He massaged his temples and ruffles his fingers through his tangled curls. He stared long and hard at one particular photo, those yellow symbols. What did they mean? He grabbed a biro from the sideboard and scribbled letters under the yellow shapes. Standing back, his heart dropped.

_GOTCHA DUFUS _

_NOW COME SAVE YOUR PRINCESS KING ARTHUR _

_IOU _

It was at this moment a taxi pulled up outside. Breathlessly John entered the flat, the smile on his face soon faded as he noticed Sherlock's solemn, worried expression. He spoke, his voice hoarse and desperate.

'John, he's back,' John was confused, who was back?,' John, he's got Kitty and, if she'd still alive, she's in great danger'

'Still alive? Sherlock I'm not sure I-' Johns pulse throbbed as the adrenalin started to race through his veins,' the murders?'

'Just phone Lestrade, they weren't murders John. Both died a long time ago, their bodies were frozen. Rachel Samuel, 32, found dead, known to have been homeless – most likely starved to death. Phil Neil, 20, again, a student with no place to go. He was hit by a car. Both had no families so their bodies were never claimed so sent into storage at the university,' Sherlock turned to John, a spark in his eye,' these weren't murders, they were distractions. He needed Kitty for something. He knew I couldn't resist. He left that not, see John? He is dangerous and we have to find him before it's too late'

'Sherlock stop!' snapped John loudly, he took a deep breath,' who is he?'

Sherlock turned, a certain look in his eye, 'Jim Moriarty'

…

'Sherlock dear, is everything alright?' Mrs Hudson nervously enquired.

'Your god daughter, Mrs Hudson, has been kidnapped by a notorious psychopath and may or may not be being held hostage by Britain's most dangerous consulting criminal. Assuming the slim chance she is still alive and not a mangled corpse in a ditch-'

'SHERLOCK!' John shouted, Sherlock stopped abruptly to see Mrs Hudson starting to cry. She blew her nose on the grimy tea towel and mopped her tears that fell from her pale eyes. John put his arm around her slim shoulders.

'Now where would he have taken her?' Sherlock thought allowed, turning his back on the sobbing Mrs Hudson,' John, take her outside, I can't think with that distraction'

John was half way down the stairs when Sherlock shouted for him, he groaned and reassuring Mrs Hudson he ran back up.

'Get on your laptop,' he thrust it into Johns arms, he sat opposite Sherlock. He was about to begin typing when the screen froze, and a ring began to emit. A name appeared in the top corner.

_Incoming Call - Kitty_


	13. Ring Ring

Kitty opened her eyes. Using the wall to steady her weak body slowly rose to a standing position. The motion made her head spin and her empty stomach heaved. She promptly vomited over the floor. The sour taste rolled around her mouth and she managed to swallow the lump that rose in her throat. Head was pounding and she was finding it hard to see out of her right eye. There was ringing in her ears and the taste of blood lingered in the back of her mouth and she gently touched her throbbing cheek, but stopped when she discovered how painful it was. It was late evening and the room was dark and she was in a lot of pain. Her legs couldn't hold her anymore and she sunk back down to the floor. There came the opening and closing of the door behind her. Her stomach churned again. Jim came out of the darkness, his face lit by a laptop he was carrying.

'Where do you think you're going? We haven't started yet' He said with an evil grin as he put the laptop down on a chair that he pulled behind him. Kitty's eyes stung at the sudden bright light, she quickly closed them. She wasn't sure what he was doing but she knew she needed to get out. She'd known that for a long time, before she'd even entered the building. She was now too weak to even walk to the window or shout to passers-by for help.

'Come here' he called as if summoning a dog. She just sat still, afraid of what he might do.

'Didn't you hear me? I said come here!' he yelled. She obliged and rose back up to her feet as quickly as she could, swallowing hard on her raw throat. She stumbled as far as her fragile body would take her and stopped by him. Jim grabbed her shoulder hard, making her wince, and pushed her down to the floor. She tucked her legs beneath her. Her knees clicked, one had been dislocated when Jim had kicked it. Remembering something shed seen in a film she had manage to adjust it back into place whilst biting down hard on her screwed up scarf to stifle her scream of pain. The noise of the joints grinding together made her sick. If her stomach wasn't so empty she would've repeated her earlier reflex. A heavy hand squeezing her thumping head Jim spoke.

'Sign in. Now' he commanded, gesturing his free hand towards the screen. Knowing better she typed in her Skype address that John had made her. He shoved her out of the way and clicked '**_Video Call_**' on her only contact and had. _John Watson_. As the call was ringing out he gave her instructions in a blunt tone.

'Do exactly as I tell you, you dare try beg for help, and I'll kill you' he said as simply and casually as if it were said every day. He brought out a black handgun and stood behind the laptop so he wasn't seen, he loaded it with a single bullet. As the gun was pointing towards the centre of her head, tears started to trickle down her bruised cheeks and a familiar voice answered the call.

'Hello? Kitty is that you?' his video was blurry but soon sorted itself out, 'you finally got the hang of this then? Where have you-,' he joked. He was smiling, his eyes bright.

But then he stopped when he saw her face. Deep purple and black bruises painted her pale canvas, the mix of dry and fresh blood was splashed around the hollows of her face.

'Oh my God! Kitty what's happened? Where have you been? SHERLOCK?!' He yelled in panic, he turned around to look for him, placing the laptop into the desk. Jim still held the gun, he faked a yawn and flashed his Rolex a glance. In a whisper he dictated what he wished the puppet to say, all the time with that smile on his face.

'Doctor John Watson,' she started, sobbing through the words,' still loyal to him, I see, why does that not shock me?'

The picture on the screen showed the flat. It no longer looking dark and dingy, but cosy and homely. Kitty suddenly wished she was there, sipping tea and talking. Suddenly Sherlock came running into the room and appeared straight in front of the camera. His hair was ruffles and he had bags under his tired eyes, he was paler than usual

'Kitty, what happened? Where are you?' his eyes flitted around. Trying to see anything that would help him see where she was.

'Don't worry, Sherlock. She's safe for now' Kitty cried as she spoke she didn't look into the camera she couldn't bring herself to look at the screen. Instead she kept her terrified eyes on the gun.

John came back into the room and saw Sherlock in front of the laptop. He walked over and leaned behind him to get a good look. Sherlock was glued to the laptop, frustrated and confused.

'Isn't this lovely Sherlock? It's been too long since we've have a little chat'

Suddenly it clicked, 'Moriarty what have you done to her?' he shouted down the camera.

'Is the great Sherlock Holmes showing emotion? I thought that was impossible' The words were blurry. The scab on the victims cheek opened as she talked. The deep gash seeped thick, red blodd that trickled down her pale face and dripped onto the keyboard.

'Why have you done this to her?' John took sharp breaths to sound threatening, but his voice wavered in anger and emotion. He couldn't bare to look at Kitty anymore. As she shook in floods of tears flowing over bruises and cuts. With a cough he walked into the kitchen to compose himself.

'Isn't it obvious, Mr Ordinary?' she wept,' it's you. You don't really-

Suddenly the talking stopped. Kitty took in an uneven breath to steady the outburst of sobs that rose in her throat.

'-think she was in love you, do you? Don't make me laugh, no, Sherlock. She's just an obstacle. A pawn in my little game; but I'm don't with her now. But, if you don't get me what I want, I will-' the words were too much for her,'-shoot her' she cried so hard that nothing else could be heard. The crackled sound of her choking on her tears filled 221B. In the kitchen John had grabbed his phone and dialled Lestrades' number, he was already on his way to Bakers Street.

'If you try and find her, I will shoot. We wouldn't want that, would we?' came Moriarty's creamy tone.

All of a sudden they heard a loud noise from Sherlock end. Kitty bought herself to look up at the screen. Thro9ug her tears she saw Lestrade burst through the door. Moriarty made himself vulnerable, and spoke.

'I warned you Sherlock' the video crackled and went silent. Sherlock turned around.

'What did you for?!' He shouted. He whisked back to the laptop. He shook it, he tried to call back. He yelled in anger and desperation as he threw it across the flat, 'I have to find her' his voice wavered. He turned to Lestrade, squinted and snapped,' and why are you here?'

'Well excuse me but John called me'

'JOHN!'

'Sorry, but we need to find her soon Sherlock, and soon'

…

As she coughed kitty kept her eyes fixed on her brother as he paced up and down, his face looked as though he were figuring out a puzzle. That was what his sister was. A very difficult puzzle. He knew her buttons, what made her tick. He was always the cat, and she was the mouse.

'You're evil' tears had ceased to fall from the girls eyes. The first lights of dawn lit up her face. Her voice was dry, nothing more than a gasp, 'you're nothing but a snake' It hurt her chest to breath.

'Dear dear,' Jim closed his eyes, his voice was that of a disappointed parent. He crouched onto the floor at her feet, his face so close to hers she could smell the mint on his breath. How she wished she could brush her chipped teeth,' how many times? I'm not a snake. I'm a spider' as he said this he ran his hand up his sisters arm, like a spider.

It made Kitty's skin crawl. His touch on her bare skin turned her cold. Anger boiled inside her, quickly, like a volcano, she burst. Taking her whole body strength she shoved him hard in the chest. He slammed to the floor. Quickly Kitty rose to her feet and grabbed the gun the he'd placed at his side. She stood, breathing deeply,aiming the weapon right between Jim's wide eyes. He rose his arm in surrender. There came a click as the trigger was pulled.

'Oh naughty naughty' Jim grinned as Kitty's face became confused and shook the gun, 'it's not actually loaded DUFUS!'

She felt as if she had hit the dead end of a maze. She threw the pointless contraption at the wall.

'No' Jim had risen to his feet and adjusted his cufflinks,' we can't have little sister getting violent now? Especially as she's so tired' his voice was deep as he mocked up a sad looking face.

The chair was slammed on the floor infront of her. The large man entered again. He carried wire and rope.


	14. The Unexpected Caller

John paced up and down the living room, frantically running has hands repeatedly through his now static hair. It was past midday and time was running out. Lestrade stood in the door way, his eyes wide with worry.

'Shit, Shit, Shit,' he muttered,' Sherlock what are we going to do?'

'Get me the phone,' Sherlock's voice was still incredibly normal.

'Sherlock we don't have time to make calls!' John had to breathe sharply between each word to stop himself from yelling in his face. Sherlock looked at him with a blank expression as he bought the phone up to his ear, what did John think he was doing? Ordering a pizza?

'Hello?' came a soft woman's voice from the other end.

'Everyone SHUT UP!' Sherlock shouted as he put his hand over the phones microphone ,' Ah hello,' his voice was bright and linguistic,' it's Sherlock Holmes here and I was just calling to ask some questions about your daughter, Kitty…' Sherlock purposefully made his voice trail off as if forgetting something.

'Well I'm so sorry but I don't know a Kitty, do you mean Caroline? Caroline Riomarty?'

'Ah yes, Caroline, Kitty is a erm nickname,' Sherlock looked at John and rose his eyebrow with a smile.

'So, her names not Kitty?' Lestrade muttered to John, his mouth full of cake. John was distracted by listening to Sherlock carry on. He knew what Sherlock was doing. He was calling her adopted mum to see if he could get any scraps of facts to figure out where 'Kitty' was, or why Jim Moriarty had taken her.

'Riomarty?' Sherlock continued,' does she have an Italian background?'

'I'm not sure,' the woman relaxed, there was something about that Mr Holmes' voice that relaxed her, 'I'm sure she's told you but she's adopted'

Sherlock faked a gasp 'No way! No she hasn't mentioned that. You don't happen to know where the adoption house was?'

'South London, it was called Mayday House' The woman was easier to break than Sherlock had thought.

'Did she have any…enemies?' Sherlock suddenly became serious and rigid, the atmosphere stiffened. The woman coughed uncomfortably,' it's just she's in a bit of an odd mood and I'm worried about her'

'Well, she's a twin,' the woman's voice was husky as if she was telling him the deepest secret,' James his name was. They were in care together, never separated. Caroline was a sweet child, it was her brother. It's ridiculous to say but, the boy was evil. He'd got the pair kicked out of practically every child's home in England. By the age of 8 he had Caroline hacking into bank websites and government files. He had a way with her, even as a child. If he didn't eat, she wouldn't eat. I couldn't give you certain evidence but he'd… bully her into getting his way,' Sherlock's mind flicked back to the image of the deep bruising on the girls arms,' She was 10 when me and my husband went to see her. Small for a child of her age, her hair was long and black. I remember her looking so broken, like a puppy kicked out on Christmas Eve. We were told about James, about how they couldn't be separated, but we didn't want another boy, we had four already and from what we'd been told of him, Mr Holmes, he wasn't right in the head. So we took her home, for years she was part of the family. Then she started getting letters, strange men came to the house, odd phone calls in the middle of the night. We sent her to stay with my friend in London to get her away from them and since she's been gone they've stopped – hello? Hello? Mr Holmes? Hello?...'

Sherlock had hung up, he'd heard enough. He threw the phone onto his armchair and pulled on his coat whilst he made his way to the door.

'Grab your coat John, Gary-

'Greg!'

'-Greg we need your police car, no not the police car or he'll panic...,' Sherlock rolled up his sleeve and glanced at his watch, 'we have an hour'

'An hour until what?' chimed Lestrade and John, confused.

'Until she's in real danger'


	15. When Time Stood Still

The sweat felt hot as is trickled down her icy temples and clotted in her hair. The stench of the damp room lingered in her nostrils and she wrinkled her nose in disgust and pain. Her mouth was filled with blood which seeped out from the sides of her dry chapped lips and soaked into the dirty rag that gagged her, stopping her from making any attempt to call out for help or scream in pain. Her head pounded, it felt like her brain was ready to burst through her skull. Jim had to take up some business outside of town. It gave her a break from the constant beatings, the constant impact of force on her now fragile bones. His clenched fist, his terrifying screams rang in her throbbing ears. She whimpered and moved her head as if he was shouting to her right there.

'What do you want from me?' she had wept over and over, never answered. Not even making a slight movement. He'd placed various websites in front of her, tempting her, she had refused to budge.

For the thousandth time she decided to try and wriggle her frozen hands free from the ropes and wire that tied her hands behind her back. She writhed in the chair as she tried to lean over to one side. Her shoulders were aching from the strain of being held back. The rusty metal wire had dug deep into her wrist, the rope had rubbed her wrists red raw and it hurt too much. She could feel the bare skin, stinging. Open and weeping a red and green ooze. The chair she sat on was old and creaked whenever she moved, which she found hard in the state she was in. Maybe if she-

'And where are you going?' came that voice, silky and smooth, like a rich Irish liquor. 'Naughty naughty, looks like someone hasn't learned her lesson'

Just as he took a step forward the pair's ears rang with the sound of sirens and the room was filled with blue flashing lights. Kitty looked up and forced a smile.

'Gotcha' she whispered. Her voice was just about audible, nothing more than a husk. No matter how much it hurt to say these sweet words, she would enjoy it, and said it with the smile.

'No you haven't' Moriarty's voice was shrill from the corridor just outside the room, with bitter hatred she heard his footsteps quickly fade away down the stairs and away into the night.

…..

Sherlock stood at the door of the grotesque building. He turned to the awaiting policemen, the blue lights flashing in his eyes.

'Stay here!' he yelled over the whirling sirens, his eyes met those of John, 'and don't follow me'

'Do you even know what you're doing Sherlock?' Lestrade shouted, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow.

'Of course I do' Sherlock smiled and winked before turning once again and pushed the heavy door open. The smell of rotten wood reached his nose which he wrinkled up.

'Come out and play then!' He shouted, turning around in the hallway, looking around. No reply came to the echo,' You coward! This is what you did it all for wasn't it? Come and get me then, you spider!'

To his surprise, nothing happened. He heard muffled screams from above him. Kitty. He ran up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. He entered the long corridor, it was pitch black, lit only with the flashes of blue. The door at the end of the hall was the only one slightly open. He ran towards it and burst into the room. The sight he saw made a lump come into his throat.

A figure sat there. Head hung down, it's body limp. It's matted hair hung over its face. The whole room smelt of dried blood. The figure gently swayed and mumbled

'No,please, please no more,' it began to whimper,' just kill me, please, get it over with and just let me die'

'O, I don't think that will be necessary' his voice was smooth and deep, he said it with a slight smile. Even if she couldn't see it.

The girls head rose. Her heart swelled with relief at seeing that elegant silhouette I front of her. Those curls, the turned up collar, the cheekbones which were lit by the flashes of blue which stung her eyes.

'Where have you been you bastard' she laughed. She then took a deep gasp and began to cough, something dripped from her mouth to the floor. Her body lurched forward. Sherlock leapt forward and scooped her up back into the chair. He removed the rag and dapped her mouth and the open wound on her forehead. He didn't react to the deep black bruises on her limbs, her black eye, the deep gashes on her cheeks which had become infected and blood that she'd dripped from her cut lips and coughed up from her chest, her eyes still glistened, full of tears. To him, she was still beautiful. He smiled again and rose back to his feet.

'I told you I'd keep you safe' His voice was a cheeky whisper. His lips brushed her cold ears as the words made her spine shiver. Kitty felt the tight ropes on her wrists relax and she stood. But her legs were too weak and buckled beneath her and she fell into Sherlock's arms, he caught her surprisingly light frame. She looked up to thank him. This was when they're lips brushed, ever so slightly. Sherlock took Kitty's shaking hands in his gloved ones to steady her stance. She looked up into his eyes.

'Sherlock…I…I…' she whispered.

'Don't interrupt' suddenly Kitty felt a pressure on her lips. He kissed her. They stood there in the hellish room, the blue lights still bouncing off the walls and lighting the couples faces. Both their mouths opened and closed. Sherlock had acted on impulse, this type of contact made the voices in his mind go into overdrive, screaming at him. His tongue entered her mouth. It hurt Kitty's sore lips and aching mouth, leading her to moan slightly. But she carried on, clinging to Sherlock's coat. Nothing would ruin this moment.

Suddenly the whole room shook and both their ears rang. Glass smashed and fell around the pair like confetti. Sherlock noticed Kitty's lips go rigid, she just seemed to stop. Dead. He opened his eyes, Kitty's eyes were wide and white. Fear washed over him. He pulled away. He trod on something sharp, and again. Glass was shattered all over the ground. Something warm dribbled over Sherlock's hand which had been on Kitty's waist. Blood.

'Sherlock…I….' Kitty whispered, he hardly heard her before she collapsed again into Sherlock's arms. He bought her down to the floor. Kicking the glass out of the way he guided her shivering hands to the wound.

'Keep it there. Put as much pressure on there as you can.' he spoke quickly, trying to hide his panic. Kitty was drifting in and out on consciousness so her arm remained limp. Sherlock ripped off his scarf and pressed it down on her side. Tears soaked into Kitty's jumper.

'Sher… Sher…,' Kitty's eyes were screwed up tight in pain. She began to breath deeper as she held in her tears, Sherlock knew she was beginning to panic, going into shock. She mumbled sleepily,' Sherlock… I'm scared'

'Don't…Don't be…,' Sherlock reached out and removed a lock of hair that stuck to Kitty's bruised brow. Tears welled up in his bloodshot eyes, he blinked them away,' don't be because I'm here,' he made his voice soft and calming,' John's here too. Come on, you can't leave me here.

With the ghost of a smile Kitty closed her eyes gently. Her chest ceased to rise. Sherlock stood up quickly and rose his shaking blood soaked hands to his face.

'Help! Somebody! John! Lestrade! Anybody!' He ran to the smashed window and yelled as load as he could until his voice was hoarse and his throat raw. He turned to the body lying in the pool of thick red blood on the floor. He made his way over, slowly, to the body. He knelt by her head and lifted it onto his lap and rocked it back and forth. He began to cry. He bent over and rested his forehead on hers and allowed a tear to run down his face and soak into his coat.


	16. Open Your Eyes

She opened her eyes to blazing white lights. Oh God! she was dead!

Then heard faint voices, going to sit up when a pain jolted in her left hand side. She gasped and pressed her hand on the tender muscle in her waist. The girl looked around her, her eyesight was slightly burred. She was in a small room with lilac and white walls. Monitors beeped around her. She turned her head slowly towards the open window to look at the view of a crisp, crystal clear London morning out the window. The gentle morning breeze blew this whisps of hair off her pale face. She breathed it in, deep into her lungs.

Collapsing back down onto her bed she looked down at her aching arm, a needle stuck out of her inner elbow. It was attached to a bag of deep red blood which hung from a post. Another needle was in her right hand; which lead to another machine. The thought of it in her skin made her stomach churn and had to look away. Her eyes rested on the bedside table, it was covered in cards and flowers, a teddy was propped up against a vase which held a single red rose, her eyes strained to read the label around the fresh green stem of the rose, it simply read 'The Woman' in swirly, feminine writing . Still confused, she went to itch her nose, a plastic clip burnt her fragile nostrils. Her eyes screwed up tight as the bright light of the room had made her head pound. It was at this moment a door opened and closed.

'Woah woah looks like someone's finally woken up' the voice was like smooth honey over the various buzzing of the equipment. Slowly opening her eyes a figure of a strange man in a white coat strolled over and picked up the clipboard at the end of her bed. He came over and loomed over her, sending her recoiling deep into the mattress. Just then two more figures came bursting into the room. One was a woman in a nurses uniform, her black hair tied in a sharp pony tail. The other figure, panting at her side, made her heart swell.

'John?' she called out sleepily. Her voice shocked her. It sounded so faint and far away. John, trying to walk calmly and naturally, made his way over to her bedside. He sat at a chair the doctor had pulled by her side. The doctor went and stood by the nurse at the door, smiling.

'It looks like you're on the straight and narrow Mrs Watson. I'll come see you in an hour and we can talk.' Both then left, leaving John behind.

'Mrs Watson?' She laughed and looked over to John with her soft eyes. John laughed too, embarrassed.

'Alright I panicked,' his voice came stern,' but I don't even know your real name do I?'

Her heart dropped to the pit of her sore stomach,' Oh John I'm sorry I'm so sorry'

John reached out and took her hand in his and squeezed it.,' It's okay, I understand now. Kitty suits you more anyway.' He looked up to her with a smile.

Kitty smiled gently in thanks. She let of a groan as the muscles in her side twisted again. She threw off her sweltering duvet and lifted up her hospital gown, she gasped. A bandage was wrapped around her hips and waist. Deep crimson blood was dotted above where the pain was. She looked, her eyes worried, over to John.

He explained everything that had happened. He explained how he and Lestrade had heard Sherlock's shouts for help and how they'd carried her to the police car and sped to the hospital. How Sherlock had paced up and down the hospital corridor outside the theatre where she had had the surgery to remove the bullet. How Baker Street had been overflowing with gifts and cards. She'd been unconscious for 3 weeks. With a heavy heart he confessed to her at one point it was believed she wouldn't make it. John's voice faded as he swallowed the lump in his throat.

This scared Kitty. She could be dead now. She could've given her brother what he'd always wanted. Then something shot into her brain.

'Is Sherlock here?,' she mumbled sitting herself up gently. Johns grip tightened on her hand, 'Where is he?...Why are you crying? John?'

He didn't mean to tell her right there and then. He'd meant to tell her when she'd recovered. But there he was, telling her about the rigged court trial, Richard Brook and finally he came to the building. Standing below on the pavement and watching the figure fall to the ground.

She couldn't believe it. It felt as if someone had ripped her beating heart out of her chest and tore it into thousands of pieces in front of her. She couldn't cry. She was too angry to cry. He wasn't dead, he couldn't be dead.

'I want to go.' She croaked over the lump of anger in her throat.

'Go where,' John couldn't even look at the broken expression on her face, his eyes stayed staring at their hands.

'To him' she could barely get the words out of her mouth. They were bitter as the passed her lips. She stayed staring at the blank wall opposite her,' I want to see him one last time,' She swallowed hard,' I want to say goodbye'


	17. Goodbye To An Old Friend

It took two months for everything to go back to normal.

Kitty had gained a healthy amount of weight in hospital and had needed to learn how to walk properly again. She moved back in with her godmother in Baker Street. She couldn't even look into the empty flat as she passed it up the stairs. Then came the day she had made John promise her.

'Ready?' came a voice shouting from the front door. Kitty opened it. She wore a short black dress and limp cream cardigan. Her hair was shining in the sun. She held a punch of bright flowers in her hand.

She took a deep breath as she looked into John's worried brow, 'Ready' she sighed.

The cab was an uncomfortable silence. It was hard to know what to say. Kitty flashed a look to John, who was just sat there; a broken man who'd lost his closest friend.

"How's the new place?" Kitty tried to sound innocent.

"Hmm, it's okay" John's voice was distant.

"Lestrade said he was going to drop off a box of Sherlock's…' she trailed off. It hurt to say his name. She always thought about him when she said his name.

They arrived at the cold black metal gates. John paid the cab driver and strode into the cemetery, Kitty walked slowly behind him, her head to the ground. It was the kind of weather where it was warm in the sun, yet, unpleasantly cool in the shade.

She dodged through stone after stone. John moved too fast for her, he knew where he was going. He'd walked this route a little too often. So many people, Kitty thought. She almost felt guilty as she looked at the old, mossy graves. Once new and shining in the celebration of someone's life, they were now forgotten, things of the past. She almost didn't see John stop in front of her and closely avoided colliding with him, sending him face first into the dirt.

John cleared his throat," This is it," Kitty stared at the shining, black grave. It all seemed too horrific to be true. But there was his name, scratched into stone, forever. John stood straight ," I'll leave you to- err-" He walked away, sniffing.

Kitty stared in front of her, her sweaty grip tightened on the flowers. She took a step towards it and placed her hands on its cold surface. She shivered as she placed the flowers gently on the ground.

"Why?," her voice was a husky whisper," why did you do this? to me? to John? to everyone who cared for you?" her voice rose in anger, she stopped herself," you were the greatest man I've ever met. You saved me Sherlock, not just that once but so many times. Without you here I'm not sure I can-" her voice faded as tears ran down her face and dropped into the earth. All she wanted was to feel his arms around her, just so she knew he was there. John came over and held her tightly. She sobbed into his shoulder.

"Shh Shh now" John fought back his own tears as he swayed her gently from side to side," Everything will be fine, I'm here"

"No you're not" snapped Kitty, pulling away," This is the first time I've seen you since - then. Not even a phone call..." She couldn't bare it any longer, Kitty stormed back up to the church building, her face buried in her shaking hands.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" whispered John, looking up to the tree. He walked closer to the black stone. It seemed to smile at him, he could almost see Sherlock's silhouette reflected in it, standing behind him...wait...he spun around. Nothing.


	18. Missing Him

'You really need to get out more' Kitty leant on the marble counter and rested her hot forehead on her hand. John shrugged and sipped his beer.

'And how do you suppose I do that?'

'Erm, excuse me,' stuttered a voice,' But I don't suppose I could ask-'

'Can't you see I'm talking' Kitty snapped to the weasely old man.

'It's just that I've been waiting for a drink for about 20 minutes'

'And what am I the only barmaid here?' Kitty slammed a glass and a bottle of beer onto the bar,' anything else your majesty?'

The man muttered, mainly in fear, and keeping his head down tottered to his seat on the opposite end of the pub. Mrs Hudson had insisted Kitty to pay for her own rent now 221B was empty and had found a job space at the pub down the road. It's fair to say Kitty wasn't a people person.

'But yeah,' She continued with a sigh leaning back onto the counter,' you should let me set you up'

'Ah no no no no and no,' John pulled away from the counter, his hands up in surrender.

'Oh John, you kill joy,' she tried to impersonate Sherlock's notorious puppy eyes,'I know you and Sherlock were… close'

'Kitty for the last time, no matter what Mrs Hudson tells you, I'm not gay' he whispered in a husky tone over the counter, so no one got the wrong part of the sentence.

'If you say so,' Kitty rose her eyebrows, 'just please, I've already told her about you and she's up for it if you are'

'Tell me about her and then I'll make a decision'

'She was a nurse in the hospital, her name's Mary and she's really nice,' Kitty began to clean a glass trying to look professional,' and you know I was thinking you're a Doctor and she's a nurse'

'If I say yes will you shut up?' laughed John into his glass, it was the first time he'd shown any happiness in months. He needed to get out of the flat, out into some fresh air, just to talk to someone new, someone where there wasn't a risk of the topic of Sherlock to be bought up. He hoped Kitty wouldn't catch onto this, seeing her cry nearly every time she saw John was hurting.

But there were things he didn't understand. He didn't understand how her head worked. How much is hurt to think of his name, his face, his voice. Her chest was heavy every time she saw his scarf on the back of her door, the empty flat below hers, the picture that stood on her fireplace with John and her on the London Eye, his face between there's, grumpy and solemn but still loveable. Sometimes she would creep down early in the morning, bare footed with a blanket wrapped around her and she'd stand there in the cold and breathe in the dust and the air. John didn't know she had seen him, well, thought she'd seen him. The man who sat next to her on the bus with the same coat, that customer the other day who kept his head down the whole time had the same smile when she almost dropped the glass, the man who cut her hair, the guy who held an umbrella over her at the bus stop, the man who talked to her in the cemetery as she stood in the snow. They'd all reminded her of him. The way they laughed, or smiled or the glints in their eyes.

John didn't know about the thoughts she had. Thoughts of ending it all, thoughts of just filling her pockets full of stones and jumping into the Thames, climbing to the top of the nearest building and falling. Somehow she believed this could get rid of the aching in her body, the yearning for everything to go back, if not, to bring them together. Not that Kitty believed in that, but God she wished she was wrong.

'What do you say introducing us at about 6 tomorrow outside Speedy's, if it looks like it's going well then you can leave us to get on with things'

'I'm not playing cupid here am I John?' a lump rose in her throat, she could barely speak.

John rose to leave,' you sure you're okay? There's nothing you want to tell me?'

'Nothing you should worry about' Kitty coughed and looked down to hide the single tear which ran down her face.

John reached out and lifted her chin upwards so her running bloodshot eyes met his, he forced a smile.

'I miss him too you know, we all do, but you stay strong okay?'

Something snapped in Kitty's brain, deep in her head, she forced her head back down,' okay'

'Oh and John,' she called out as he went to leave,' I may not be able to make it tomorrow.


	19. Going Underground

She couldn't believe what she was about to do. Her mind wasn't what it had been, it was fragile, like glass. And it had been shattered into a thousand pieces. She had been running her whole life, away from him, and now he'd gone and she had stopped. Everything had ground to a halt and now she'd had time to think. Lying awake at night she had remembered the pain of wanting, the wanting to be wanted and no one wanted her. She was no longer wanted and it hurt. Why couldn't people just think?

She muttered it as she pushed through the crowds at Bakers Street station. Even over the buzzing of the busy summer streets each step echoed through her head. She felt heat of the pavement through the flimsy sole of her shoes. The sun beat down on her dark head, beads of hot sweat ran down her neck. Yet, her blood ran cold as she descended the stairs into the stinking station. It was so humid on the busy platform, then her stomach turned. Kitty flashed her watch a glance, 12:27, two more minutes. Her mind wondered to what you could do in two minutes, but there was only one thing she could do, wait. A gruff cough came close behind her, she turned to see two men. Both wore dirty, baggy tracksuits. Both hoods were pulled low over their faces so only their bristled chins were visible to her. They were obvious junkies, maybe even part of Sherlock's disbanded homeless network. Kitty had met with a few of them, for as long as she could stand the smell. Then there came the rumble, from deep in the darkness of the tunnel to her left. It was like a mythical dragon was awakening from its sleep. From then on, everything seemed to move slowly. As if it was all underwater. She moved, past the yellow lines, her toes over the edge of the platform. Her whole body teetered forward. Her ears pulsed loudly in her ears, blocking gout the gasps and yells of 'GET BACK!' from people around her. This was it.

She went to fall forward when suddenly, a force pulled her back. Before, that split second she could've sworn her nose brushed up against the carriage. She hit the ground, falling back onto a figure behind.

'WHAT DID YOU DO THAT FOR?' she squirmed frantically to get off the body below, her eyes blurred as blood rushed to her head, she staggered a little. A second person held her steady. They had gathered a little babbling crowd around them, all their voices at buzzed in her ears. Her eyes came into focus to the getting helped up off the floor.

'You were going to jump, and you know it was a nice thing to do' he rubbed his arm shyly. It dawned on her that he'd been one of the men behind her. Something tickled behind her ear, she went to wipe whatever it was away. Bringing her hand back it was covered in thick red blood, she must've caught her head when she'd been pulled back. Looking back down at the floor she saw a small splatter of blood, her blood.

'Oh shit,' she mumbled. She felt her body strain, she was getting concussion. A man in a bright green jacket came running over shouting.

'Miss, I must insist you come away with me and we'll call you an ambulance. The small crowd parted as he went to pull her away.

'She with me,' before Kitty could say anything her rescuer had told the man that it had all been a big misunderstanding and she'd slipped, no one corrected him.

…..

'You really did bang your head didn't you' a wet rag was dapped on Kitty's forehead, she winced as he caught an old bruise on her forehead.

'Where even am i?' Kitty lay on a dingy mattress; she felt every spring stab at her back.

'Nowhere important,' he looked into her sad eyes,' I was told to bring you here'

Kitty jolted upright,' what?'

The man quickly tried to cover his mistake,' you feelin' better?'

'Not really'

'Why don't you try this,' the man handed her something from his pocket.

'I don't smoke cigarettes' Kitty pushed his hand away, scrunching her face in disapproval.

'It's not what you call a cigarette, it's… medicine'

Kitty took the tube in her slender fingers, they shook slightly. One wouldn't hurt, would it? She bought it to her dry lips.

'Oh Bill, not another one on the dragon then' muttered another man who had been curled up asleep on the cold wooden floor.

'Dragon? Oh shit is this heroin?' Kitty threw it into the man's face,' I don't know what your game is Bill but I'm not one of those losers who seeks to ruin their lives, I'm not a junkie!'

'But I know you're friend-'

'I'M NOT SHERLOCK HOLMES!'


	20. Teaching a Lesson

It was December, no one had seen Kitty for 4 months now. Mrs Hudson had received a mysterious phone call one evening, saying she had gone to stay with old friends back up on the Scottish border. There was something she hadn't trusted about the voice on the other end .She had even gone down to Scotland Yard and appealed to Lestrade to use his contacts to check up on her.

'Not my division' he'd grunted with a mouthful of cake, kicking back his feet on his cluttered desk.

John had worried, for the first week or so, but he'd been busy. He had finally moved on, suddenly realising Sherlock was gone and not coming back, but he'd been having so much fun with Mary he had sometimes forgot all about it. She had helped him see the light, to leave the past behind him. The pain had almost completely gone, almost. He found it weird that she never text, even Mary hadn't heard from her.

The thick snow crunched beneath his heavy steps. Fresh flakes floated down from the miserable grey sky and created a pure white dusting over his coat. Oh Kitty, poor, lucky Kitty trapped in this hell hole of relief, suffering and happiness. He envied her. The cold had frozen the air, it was hard to breath. Sherlock knew it wouldn't be much warmer inside the building looming in front of him. He pulled his collar up high up to his ears, attempting to warming them. He grinned slightly as he reached out to open the door

Meanwhile she was curled up, her back against the wall, he chin resting in her knee which she hugged to her chest. Her head span, she had soon given in to the pressure of Bill and the others. Now she couldn't imagine her life without that cigarette between her fingers, that glorious feeling of sleep and release she got. But it hadn't taken the pain away. That pain that had receded from her whole body and had concentrated deep in her heart and stomach, for the few hours of joy she got each time she inhaled the fumes it seemed to go away, just to come back moments later. She had no idea how long she had been in that place. Her phone and clothes had been snatched away.

She was so cold. It was a different cold than she had ever felt. Her body shivered, she was finding it hard to breath. Her legs were bare and she wore a shirt someone had thrown to her, it smelt old and musty, she hadn't washed since she had arrived, the smell turned her empty stomach. She was all alone, she should've been scared, anything could happen. She had become so lost in her thoughts she didn't hear slow footsteps approaching the room. It wasn't until the door began to creak open that she jumped up, suddenly becoming afraid.

'Shit shit shit' she uttered to herself. She squirmed, she hadn't the energy to move, instead she drew in a lungful of fumes from the cigarette in her hand, making her relax further into the wall. Exhaling it she watched the smoke dance about, wisps dancing in the cold air before disappearing. She had already forgotten about the creaking door, she turned to see a figure. It stood, rigid, in the doorframe. Silhouetted in the orange light of the winter evening.

'Hello'

No. It couldn't have been. She was dreaming. The figure advanced towards her, light illuminated his jagged cheekbones and jaw. Those cold, soft eyes looked at her. She called out into the darkening room.

'S-S-Sherlock'

She was only a few feet away but to Sherlock she sounded distant. Steadying herself she rose to her feet and stumbled over to the figure which stood in the blade of sunlighlight. I was him. Placing her hands on his chest, he was so warm. Her hands slipped round his waist, she hugged him tightly. Sherlock didn't know what to do, he just stood there and patted her head with a smile. Pulling away she saw his face. He was alive, he was there, in front of her. Before she knew it she had smacked him across the face. He gasped and held his burning cheek in his hand.

'YOU BASTARD,' she squealed,' WHAT IS THIS GAME YOU INSIST ON PLAYING WITH-'

She stopped. Sherlock had bent down and rested his lips lightly on her cheek. They stayed there, brushing her ear

'I want you to teach me' his whispered, I made her spine shiver. She let out a breath.

'What? I don't, erm, understand' Kitty's voice was a whisper too.

'Sex,' his voice was nothing more than deep gravel which sent shivers down Kitty's spine. He looked from her tired eyes, to her parted lips.

….

Sherlock lay on the mattress. Kitty straddled his hips, brushing her hair from her face. She looked different in the darkness of the hellish room. Yet, she was still so beautiful, her features pained and aged by the poisons she had put into her body. He could, no, he would save her. He held Kitty's hips with shaking hands, a hint of fear in his eyes he had never done anything like this before. Though he didn't know it, Sherlock Holmes was about to have a lesson on sex.

'Kitty…I…I…' he stuttered. Kitty placed her bony finger on his parted lips.

'Shh don't talk, just let me show you' Kitty placed her finger on his lips, her eyes, so innocent yet so sad. Her perfect hips then began to move in the most hypnotic manor, Sherlock failed to stifle a pleased moan. His large hands caressing her lean thighs, her hands moved to unbutton his purple shirt. Sherlock, the machine, the cold hearted, uncaring man had never felt more alive than he did at that moment.

His hands cupped her fragile, perfect, face. Pulling her down for a passionate kiss he slipped his hand under her top. His cold heart had practically shattered in two, for all he knew, to her, this was all a hallucination. He was nothing but a memory. He grew angry and grunted slightly as he ripped the top, leaning up his pulled of his thick jacket and his now open shirt revealing his pale chest and muscular torso.

With a deep breath Kitty began to undo his belt and zipper, pushing his trousers to his knees, only black boxer briefs left between her and the hardening length that belonged to this, ridiculous man. She pulled them down, gasping softly, she took him in her hand and stroked him, not leaving an inch untouched. With a soft groan Sherlock began to panic, what he meant to do now? Somehow those videos he had frequently come across on John's laptop didn't seem to help, it was all too new. Acting on impulse he cupped her breasts in his hands, kneading them like a ball of dough. After minutes of teasing she raised herself off him, and with a deep breath, lowered herself onto him moaning.

'O-oh,' her breath hitched getting higher, she took him in slowly, once she had taken him in fully, her eyes had closed, and his too. To the pair, time stood still for the rest of the night.


End file.
